January 9, 2014

I had an epiphany this week.
Relaxing on the patio at our standard summer vacation spot (a wonderful place called mom’s beach condo) looking out over the vast expanse of the ocean. The sky dotted with boats, the beach crawling with tanned tourists, a thunderstorm creeping on the horizon, I started thinking about my place in this world and realized there are things I can do better. Pay more attention to details, procrastinate less, follow through more, focus at work and acheive beyond doing just what is needed or expected, take better care of myself not just for me but for the family that depends on me. All of these were areas where I not only should improve, but could improve if I so chose. That was the epiphany part. I think we all intrinsically realize we are not our best selves, but we indulge in self-deception and defeatist thinking to allow ourselves the luxury of accepting out place, even if it’s not the best we can do or the end result that we truly desire. I realized that my control extends much further than I allow and that change is not only needed, but necessary.
Don’t worry it won’t last. I know this because I’ve had this particular epiphany probably a half dozen times in the last year or two alone. That moment – maybe it’s in the late night silence, or a noisy, crowded place where you suddenly become hyper aware of your existence as a solitary creature among others or perhaps, like me, at some cliche moment where the sweeping vastness of beauty and enormity of the natural world absorbs and overwhelms you and you have no choice but to fight back against the smallness by puffing up and exerting your control and self-realization. The problem is the situation in which these moments occur is often fleeting, at least in it’s impact. It’s often something like an overpowering natural encounter as described above, or a moment of life-altering joy (the birth of a child, graduating college) or one of life-threatening fear (operation, near crash) and once your beyond that moment, life more or less resumes its course and your back in your same environment and the daily routine reasserts itself and strips away the desire, if not ability, to enact the change that seemed so clear and crucial. The memory becomes less powerful until the drumbeat day-to-day routine drowns it out entirely.
That’s why my epiphanies are multitude but the actual record of implementation is spotty to be generous (nearly non-existent to be accurate).
It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that it becomes harder as you realize the things needed to get battle through the thick brush to reach that path you so clearly and easily visualized in that moment of clarity is often more fraught with obstacles than it seemed in that moment of clarity. It seems so easy because you’re not truly thinking of the journey as much as the destination.
‘Yes, I will be healthier,” you say. Then realize that you already do try to get to the gym, but the 10-hour workdays and familial obligations take precedence.
Part of it is just giving up because, dammit, it’s hard and screw that, things are hard enough without adding internal pressure to live up to some idealized existence brought on by sand, salt air and seagulls. The ocean doesn’t care about me, so why should I let it influence my life in return? And really, I’m not doing so bad. Sure, I could be healthier, but I’m in pretty good shape. And dammit, I do work hard. So hard, that all it took to warp my mind into the realm of the impossible is a slight breeze and some sunny skies. My epiphany should be to do less. Eat worse, don’t worry about exercise, mabye the family shouldn’t be so dependent anyway, maybe this is a good as I am designed to be and rather than exerting energy to force change to some unrealistic ideal, I should find happiness in being where I am and letting that be enough. Maybe I’ve reached my destination and the sunset shouldn’t have the power to make me feel otherwise.
So in closing, screw epiphanies.
It was probably the alcohol talking anyway.
I think I’ll take a nap.